


Island of the Damned

by heartsdesire456



Series: Uncle Phil [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He stopped by the door, heart dropping. “What’s wrong?” he asked weakly.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Those bastards got Phil, that’s what,” Clint cursed from his spot on the corner, fists clenched at his side as emotions flickered over his face too fast to really catch them. </i></p><p>10th fic to a series in which Phil is Stiles's uncle and Stiles and his friends are sneakier than Phil ever could have imagined. (M/M this time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Island of the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> AND IT IS DONE! WOOO! I hope you guys like it! I sure am glad I wrote this. I know the whole 'series instead of chaptered fic' thing threw a few of you off, but the problem was it didn't FIT in chapters to me. That's why I posted a series, because it was supposed to be ONE long fic and it just didn't WORK that way.
> 
> So yeah, thanks to everybody that stuck through it with me!

Stiles and Derek walked into the kitchen, where most of the others were gathered for breakfast, and immediately Danny looked up and shot Stiles a narrow eyed look. “There you are. Where the hell were you all night?” he asked, then raised an eyebrow as he looked at Derek.

Stiles flushed slightly but showed no reaction. “I was around,” he said casually, going to the coffee maker.

Peter snickered and handed him an empty mug. “Well, well, well, Stiles, what on earth were you doing with Derek that means you two showing up to breakfast together?” he teased.

“Alright, enough of that,” Derek said, glaring at Peter. “We were talking about Gerard, happy?”

“Last I heard you two weren’t talking at all,” he said primly. Stiles shot him a startled look and he smirked. “What? Superheroes like to gossip.”

“WHAT?!” he asked, voice so high it cracked. He whipped around and Stark winked and wiggled his fingers, Clint was hiding his laughter in his hand, and Banner looked sheepish. “How- what the- Oh my GOD!” Derek glared at the table so hard it was amazing they weren’t all on fire, even if his ears were. 

Scott looked confused. “What’re we ‘what’ing about?” he asked, then looked at Isaac, who shrugged.

Peter grinned evilly. “Oh? You hadn’t heard the real story about why Derek left town like he did?”

“Don’t you dare-“ Stiles started but Peter cut him off, smirking at the table.

“He found his mate and panicked and ran away,” he said and Stiles froze, hand reached out as if he had tried to slap a hand over Peter’s mouth but wasn’t fast enough.

Scott hummed, nodding slowly. “Oh really? Cool, who was it?” Literally every person in the kitchen turned to look at Scott, who just frowned, eyes going wide. “What?!”

Phil sighed and put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head. “You really mean to tell me that this is your alpha?” he asked Isaac next to him.

Scott looked at Derek a few times, then glanced at Stiles. “OH! That’s what they meant by where you were!” he said in realization, then hesitated as a look of disgust grew on his face. “Ewwwwwww, Stiles!” he cried. “Tell me you didn’t- _Derek_?! Why?!”

Ethan snorted, biting back a grin. “Dude, Scott, you’ve seen Derek without a shirt on, why _wouldn’t_ Stiles?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, cheeks flaming. “First off, I didn’t lie, last night Derek and I talked about the Gerard situation. Second, excuse me but who are you to judge my choices, dude? You _helped Gerard_ and then you helped _Deucalion_ \- all in the same year I might add – because you’re too damn stubborn to let other people help you!” he stressed. “Your decision making skills suck ass, Scott, so if anybody is going to judge me on who the hell I want to sleep with, it’s not you.”

Lydia looked at Derek, then shrugged. “Hey, I don’t blame you. I sure would,” she said, holding out her hand for Stiles. “Congrats on the sex!” she said and Stiles glared at her extended hand.

“I am not high-fiving for that,” he said obstinately. 

Stark snorted. “Fuck that, I would and I haven’t had sex with a man in like ten years,” he said, saluting Stiles. 

Danny rolled his eyes, then pulled out the empty chair beside him, nodding to Stiles, who walked over and sat beside him. “Ignore them, they’re all going to hell, I’m pretty sure,” he joked and Stiles snickered.

Chris Argent just shook his head, staring down at his coffee as if contemplating attempting to drown himself in it. “As many different kinds of traumatic as this has been, can we get back to the real topic of everybody finally being on the same page with our work against Gerard?”

“Sounds good!” Stiles said with a nod. “Now, what have we found out?” he asked Chris.

Chris shook his head. “Two more neighborhoods are clean, it seems. Still no idea who is in at the hospital or the sheriff’s station. Although we have a lead that suggests that there may be a group of hunters camping in the preserve.” He looked up and met Stiles’s eyes. “Gas station on the edge of town sold lots of propane tanks to a group of guys a few weeks ago.”

Stiles groaned. “Ah crap.”

Dr. Banner looked between Chris and Stile. “Is this a bad thing? A bunch of campers in the woods, that narrows down things better than ‘a house in the suburbs’ right?”

Peter tutted from his spot over at the counter. “Beacon Hills is a moderate sized city tucked into a valley. The preserve is hundreds of square miles all around the city up into the hills. My family was able to run free in wolf form without a single ‘wild animal’ sighting, that’s how vast these forests are. One group of people camping there would be as difficult to find as one specific black pump in a sea of women’s shoes.”

Stiles made a face. “Well that was a strange metaphor that makes me both curious and horrified of what I could discover if I could read your mind.” 

Derek cringed. “If I ever become able to read people’s minds, please, just put me out of my misery, okay?” he asked Chris, who chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“Agreed,” Danny said, looking mildly ill by the very notion.

~

Stiles sat on the end of the boardroom table, legs crossed beneath him, staring at the things spread out and connected with strings all over the wall. “There’s a pattern here, I know it,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You sure?” Derek asked from his spot in the chair beside Stiles, feet propped up on the table as he read through their files. “I see a bunch of strings and not much else.”

Stiles shook his head. “It’s there. I’m sure. Lydia?” he asked, looking down at the floor beneath the end of the table, but she shook her head.

“The inner workings of your brain aren’t as obvious to me. This is all you, Stiles,” she said with a comforting smile. “You can do it. You’re gonna get it, don’t worry.”

Stiles groaned, rubbing his fists into his eyes. “I think I took too much Adderall. My focus is too tight to see the big picture. The pattern is there. I know it’s there. It’s like when you feel like the word is on the tip of your tongue. You _know_ it’s there and you know it’ll come to you, but it just… isn’t.”

“I’m surprised you ever figure out anything, Stilinski,” Jackson called from the other end of the table where he was talking with Danny and Allison. “Just give up before you break your brain worse.”

Derek shot him a dark look but Jackson just smirked. Ethan, however, threw a marker at him, startling a snicker out of Derek. “Don’t say that stuff about Stiles,” Ethan defended. “He’s had a rough few weeks. Give him some credit for holding it all together.”

“He’d be better suited for bringing the real strong minds coffee,” Jackson countered. “Face it, Lydia and some of the adults should be working on this, not Stiles and his scatterbrained failure to focus. He’s nothing but a liability to all of us. We’ve got werewolves, superheroes, spies, and humans who are a bit above normal like Allison and Lydia. Stiles is just a dead weight,” he said and Stiles tensed fisting his hands on his lap. Derek dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight, turning to face the other end of the table, ready to shut Jackson up soon.

Ethan slammed a hand on the table. “Hey, Stiles saved my life! He risked his own safety to save my life when, as far as he was concerned, I wanted to rip him apart. He saved my life without thinking about me being an enemy or his own safety or anything. Say what you want about weaknesses, but Stiles has _courage_ without any freaking hesitancy when the pressure is on. I’d like to see you hold it together and just react in a split second like he can! Stiles holds up under pressure and not to mention, has serious guts! When I was still their ‘enemy’ he got in my face and threatened me! ME! An alpha!” he stressed, glaring Jackson down. “You call him a dead weight again, I _dare you_ , but you best remember that he’s handled way more pressure without cracking than most of us ever could.” 

Jackson sneered. “You’ve known him what, six months? Less? I’ve known Stiles since he was the loud-mouthed eleven year old who pissed off all the teachers in middle school because he would randomly start crying every time they said the most random shit-“

Ethan cut him off. “That’s because he was _ten_ and he was probably reminded of his mom, you asshole!”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Oh and what would you know about having a mom?”

Even Stiles turned around to stare and Lydia scrambled to look up over the table edge. Everybody was tense for a moment of silence before Ethan’s eyes flashed red and he let out a loud snarl, claws and teeth already out as he flew across the table so fast Allison didn’t even scream until after he’d tackled Jackson to the floor. “Ethan no!” Danny cried, jumping up and back, dragging Allison out of the way just as Jackson shoved Ethan back onto the table. Ethan rolled with Jackson’s momentum and landed on top of him in the middle of the table, slashing at his face with one clawed hand, drawing back the other.

“ETHAN, STOP!” Stiles shouted, jumping up to run the length of the tabletop towards them, only to yelp and slide when Jackson shoved Ethan into him and Ethan landed on top of him, claws scraping his forearm in his haste to get back up and throw himself at Jackson. Ethan landed on top of him on the floor, punching him in the face twice before drawing back, clawed hand raised. 

“No!” Aiden rushed through the doors and tackled Ethan off of Jackson before he could hurt him worse. He pushed him against the wall and held him there. “Ethan, calm down! You’re gonna kill him!”

Ethan fought against his brother’s hold a few times before he stopped struggling. Danny was already rushing to Jackson’s side. His face was bleeding, his nose was broken visibly, and his torso was covered in claw marks. “He fucking deserves it! Nobody should ever be that _cruel_!” Ethan growled, though his face was back to normal and his claws were retracted. 

“You didn’t have to attack him!” Allison shouted, glaring. “God, he’s an asshole, but he’s really hurt!” 

Lydia shook her head. “I think he just passed out,” she said, shaking Jackson lightly. “You hit him really hard in the head,” she said to Ethan, glaring. “You need to calm your temper.”

Danny looked up and shook his head. “Ethan didn’t mean to hurt him bad. Jackson’s a werewolf, he should handle a beating-“

“Yeah and Ethan is used to fighting to kill or fighting other alphas,” Lydia countered. “Jackson will be fine, he just will heal slower so we need to bandage these-“

“How about you forget Jackson getting what he had coming to him for a second and, if you’re feeling bandage happy, come help Stiles,” Derek called from further down the table. Everybody looked and saw Stiles sitting on the edge of the table, pale and holding the shirt Derek had took off and wrapped around his forearm while Derek helped him keep pressure.

Ethan paled. “Shit, Stiles! I’m so sorry!” he choked out, eyes full of guilt. “Are you okay?!”

Stiles was shaky but he looked up and glowered at Ethan. “Swear to God, if this was deep enough to turn me, I’m going to make your life a living hell, Ethan.”

Derek shook his head. “Wives’ tale, can’t happen,” he comforted.

Allison frowned. “Wait, it can’t? I thought a deep enough clawing could turn someone?”

“No, has to be a bite,” Derek said. “Claws can form a psychic connection, but not turn someone. It’s a hunter’s story.” He helped Stiles off the table, right arm supporting him around the waist and his left hand curled around Stile’s arm, helping him keep pressure since the scrapes ran the length of his forearm. The blood ran the length of Stiles’s hand, running in thin rivulets around his knuckles.

Stiles stopped and gasped as he looked at his hand, turning back to his web of information. “That’s it! Hunter’s stories!” He yanked at Derek and pulled free, walking back to the wall with only his own hand around the tee shirt-bandage on his arm. He looked between the map of the preserve and the town. “The story goes that crossing running water masks your scent, right?”

Derek shrugged. “It’s not true, but yeah, why?”

Allison looked up. “That isn’t true?”

“No, it’s not.” Stiles touched a spot on the map, leaving a smudge of blood. “The creek that cuts through the preserve, it forks around a small island before meeting again in this spot. The little island isn’t big, just like maybe ninety yards long about thirty wide. I remember playing there with Scott when I was little.” He cringed. “Then we read _Bridge to Terabithia_ in school and like… _never_ went to the island again because we totally thought we’d die-“

“Stiles, you’re really bleeding,” Derek interrupted and Stiles shook his head.

“No, Derek, don’t you see?! They’re hunters! They believe hunter myths! They’ll think they’re safe there-“

“Yeah, that’s all good, but you really need to go get this bandaged correctly,” Derek said, lifting his arm up higher “Seriously, you might need stitches,” he said, looking at the way the shirt had soaked through in one or two spots. 

Stiles looked at his arm, then paled rapidly. “Oh shit, that is a lot of blood,” he said, then nodded. “Yeah, let’s- let’s go find Phil,” he said, letting Derek help him keep pressure as they walked out together.

~

Derek sat in front of Stiles while Dr. Banner cleaned out the cuts down his forearm. The only place that needed stitches was a small gash in his inner forearm. It wasn’t deep enough or low enough down his wrist to be dangerous, but it wasn’t stopping bleeding like the more superficial scratches on his outer forearm. “Did Jackson really tease you that long ago?” Derek asked softly, hold Stiles’s hand to let him squeeze when Dr. Banner’s cleaning hit painful areas. 

Stiles sighed, but nodded, letting his head drop back as he looked up at the ceiling, not at his bloody arm. “Yeah. We were in the same class in sixth grade. Scott and Danny were in there too. Danny wasn’t a jerk, he never has been, but he was friends with Jackson because they’re both from wealthy families and they were both great athletes already and they were both already stupidly cute,” he said, rolling his eyes. He looked away to the side. “I can’t believe he remembers me crying,” he said, looking annoyed.

Derek tilted his head. “Was it what Ethan guessed?” he asked gently. “You don’t have to tell me, I’m just trying to keep you talking,” he said, glancing at Dr. Banner still swabbing at the long scrapes. 

Stiles winced but nodded. “My- my mom died when I was eight. I was eleven when we started sixth grade and I was mostly past losing it, I was more ‘grown up’ by then and I knew how to hold it all in for my dad’s sake, but our science and social studies teacher.” He smiled sadly down at his lap. “Mrs. Norberry would say some of the same little phrases and stuff my mom did and it was harder to hold it all in at school because I didn’t have my dad around to be strong for. Like four times that year she would say something that made me think of my mom and I’d just break down right there in class,” he said, voice tight. He swallowed hard and chuckled weakly. “It was so embarrassing but looking back I’m surprised it didn’t happen more. I’m so emotional now as an adult, it’s crazy I wasn’t more so as a kid.”

Dr. Banner looked up. “Adult? You’re barely seventeen,” he said gently and Stiles shrugged, looking at him with a crooked smile.

“I’ve been taking care of myself and my dad since I was nine years old. I haven’t really been a kid for a long time, but definitely since Scott got bit a year ago, I’ve been more of an adult than anybody else has,” he said, giving Derek a pointed eyebrow raise. “Mr. ‘oh no, I’m above anybody’s help, blah I’m a big bad wolf, I don’t need no stinkin’ humans helping me’,” he teased.

Bruce smiled sadly. “I was around the same age when I lost my mother, too. I know how much it makes you learn to look out for yourself,” he admitted and Stiles tilted his head.

“Well, most kids wouldn’t have had to. My dad was a deputy still so he didn’t have delegation powers and he worked all the time. Wasn’t his fault, he got elected Sheriff not long after, but still… most kids wouldn’t have had to grow up so fast.” He shook his head. “I never downplay the importance of a dad, it’s not like he’s not just as good of a parent as my mom was.”

Bruce cringed. “Well mine killed my mother, so you’ve got the corner on the ‘good dad’ market between us,” he said and Stiles looked horrified. Bruce’s eyes softened and he gave him a smile. “It was a long time ago, Stiles, it’s seriously okay,” he soothed, then picked up a syringe. “Alright, I’m gonna deaden it for the stitches,” he said and Stiles eyed the needle and paled.

“I- I don’t like needles,” he said. “Can’t you just do it without a shot?” he pleaded with big eyes.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Stitches without anything to deaden it will hurt like hell, Stiles. Seriously, you can feel one poke or lots of poking and tugging and pulling.”

Stiles looked torn, and then groaned. “Ah hell, give me the shot,” he said, then turned his head away, eyes clenched shut. Dr. Banner chuckled and moved to do the injection. Derek watched Stiles whimpering and kept an eye on the needle’s trajectory.

Just when Bruce moved the needle to Stiles’s arm, Derek darted in and kissed Stiles, startling a squeak out of him before Stiles relaxed into it. Derek cupped his face, tilting his head so that he could lap into Stiles’s mouth. Stiles responded with a muffled groan. Derek peeked open an eye and saw that Bruce had finished with the shot. He thought about pulling away, but Stiles made a happy little sound and Derek decided not to bother, since there was still issue of the stitches themselves going in. 

~

When the news came down, absolutely nobody was prepared. 

Scott got the call while Stiles was sharing his idea with Chris Argent, arm freshly stitched and bandaged. “So yeah, they could totally be hiding there, thinking they’re all stealthy-“

“Mom?! Mom calm down!” Scott said, distracting everyone from listening to Stiles and Chris. Scott paled rapidly and all of the other werewolves tensed immediately. Isaac shot Stiles a wide-eyed look and Derek moved a little closer to Stiles, putting a hand on his shoulder. Stiles frowned over his shoulder at Derek, only to have Scott call his name. “Stiles…” Scott’s mouth opened and closed a few times and Stiles tensed.

Ice flushed through Stiles’s veins. He shook his head slightly. “What is that look, Scott, I don’t like that look,” he said, actually shuffling back slightly when Scott walked closer. “I know that look-“

Scott held out the phone. “Crap, Stiles,” he muttered.

Stiles looked at the phone like it was poisoned. He reluctantly took it and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh God, Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Melissa choked out, sounding in tears. “Stiles, your- your dad is missing.”

Stiles stared ahead blankly, pale as a sheet. “H-How?” he asked weakly, voice so hoarse it sounded like he had been chewing glass. “Not again,” he whispered as his eyes filled with tears.

“They found his car abandoned out on Route 9. It was just pulled off the road, still running, door open. It’s almost like he got out to look at something and just… never came back,” she explained evenly. “They’ve got people out searching near where his car was, they have some dogs and they’re trying to see if he hit his head and got confused and wandered off-“

Stiles seemed to bypass fear and went straight from shock to anger, the shutters dropping behind his eyes so that the only thing visible was cold, hard rage. “He didn’t wander off and you know it,” he gritted out, a tear breaking free and tumbling down his cheek as he stared a head. “Fucking Gerard. I swear to God I’m going to kill him myself this time to make sure his evil old ass _never_ makes a comeback,” he spat, head snapping to look at the map. “Route 9, huh? Good, they won’t find Gerard’s camp before I do,” he said, hanging up sharply. He dropped the phone on the floor and went to rip the map off the wall, taking it with him as he turned and stormed out, ignoring everybody calling his name. 

“Stiles?” Pepper was passing outside the boardroom when he stormed out, watching as he stalked past with rage etched into every feature even as tears streaked his reddened cheeks. “Stiles- Stiles?!” she called when he didn’t even stop. 

Stiles didn’t have time for her or anybody else. He had a bag to pack.

~

Stiles was packing viciously when Phil came into his room and wordlessly took the bag from his hands, tossing it on the bed. “Uh, excuse you?” Stiles started, gaping when Phil started unpacking the bag, neatly folding all the clothes he’d thrown in blindly. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Phil didn’t look up. “You’re not leaving this tower-“

“Fuck that! I’m going to find my dad-“

“No.” Phil stood up and met his eyes, hands clasped loosely and calmly in front of him. “Stiles, your father sent you here to keep you safe-“

“AND NOW GERARD GOT MY DAD!” Stiles cried. “The last time someone kidnapped my dad he almost _died_! He got _stabbed_ and he almost DIED! HE NEARLY DIED DO YOU GET THAT?!”

Phil nodded solemnly. “I do ‘get that’, Stiles,” he said softly. “Stiles, I _died_. They resuscitated me, but I died and I saw what that did to those who cared about me. I understand what you’re feeling. But I also know that your father sent you to me to keep you safe.” He hesitated, eyes softening slightly. “And I know that my sister would have never forgiven me if she found out I let her son run off to get himself killed.”

Stiles gasped slightly, his rage dissipating as his face twisted from anger to pain. He bit his bottom lip and whimpered as he met Phil’s eyes from across the bed, before he simply _broke_. Phil watched as his face crumbled and Stiles burst into tears. He put his face in his hands and Phil stoically circled the bed. He reached out and put a hand on Stiles’s arm, only to freeze when Stiles threw his arms around him, hugging him tight. He wasn’t used to _hugs_ , nonetheless from children, but he’d noticed how physically touchy Stiles was and wasn’t surprised too much. He gently rubbed at Stiles’s shoulder. “I can’t lose my dad, Phil,” he sobbed against his shoulder. “I almost lost him already. I can’t- I can’t do this. I can’t take my dad being in danger like this. He’s all I have,” he choked out. “Phil, I have to go. I have to go save him. He’s my _dad_ -“

“I’m going to get him,” Phil interrupted and Stiles pulled back abruptly, red-rimmed eyes wide in surprise.

“What?”

Phil nodded. “Chris and Peter are going back to deal with this. It’s Chris’s father, he’s helped him hide, it’s his responsibility to stop him once and for all. It was Peter’s job to watch the parents and he came here because he wanted to be in on the fun stuff and now a parent is missing. I’m going because I don’t want these kids going back and getting hurt. I’m well aware they’re werewolves and hunters, but they’re _children_ \- yes, you included – and I’m not going to stand by and watch. We’re going to get him back and fix the problem. All of you can come when I have reported the situation neutralized.”

Stiles swallowed hard, wiping at his face. “But… why? It’s not your responsibility.”

Phil shrugged. “There’s been enough tragedy. I’m a Senior |Agent of SHIELD. I didn’t get here by watching bad things happen and doing nothing,” he said simply.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, but nodded. “Okay. Just… Just get my dad, okay?”

Phil nodded. “I won’t let you lose him, too,” he said squeezing Stiles’s shoulder as he turned and left, leaving Stiles standing by his bed, staring at his half-unpacked bag.

~

Everyone tiptoed around Stiles for two days, giving him space. Even Scott and Lydia seemed to be a bit at a loss over how to act around Stiles. The superheroes were clearly on edge too. Phil as one of theirs and he had gone without taking any backup. He’d refused on account of it being a personal mission for which he _was_ the backup. Clint seemed more on edge than any of the adults. Stiles secretly still believed he had a crush on Phil.

Derek was the best support Stiles could hope for. Unlike the others who tried to either comfort him or ignore him totally, Derek just sat with him. He didn’t try to talk to Stiles if Stiles didn’t want to talk, he didn’t try to get him to do things, he just stayed with him so he wasn’t alone. It was exactly what Stiles needed and he was amazed that Derek just _knew_. 

Stiles was alone in the board room, staring almost desperately at the web of information, almost as if he was pleading for a sign. Anything to show him that his dad was okay. It was pointless, but there was nothing else for him to do but sit, wait, and worry. He was waiting on Derek to come back at any time, since he’d gone to eat dinner at Stiles’s insistence that he wasn’t hungry but Derek should eat.

“Mr. Stilinski,” JARVIS spoke, interrupting Stiles’s thoughts. “Mr. Stark requests your presence in his office.”

Stiles sighed. “What the hell does he want now?” he grumbled, standing. He made his way to Tony’s office, kind of surprised he didn’t pass anybody along the way. When he entered, however, everybody was gathered there. He stopped by the door, heart dropping. “What’s wrong?” he asked weakly.

“Those bastards got Phil, that’s what,” Clint cursed from his spot on the corner, fists clenched at his side as emotions flickered over his face too fast to really catch them. 

Stiles turned a panicked look to the others. “ _What_?!” he cried in alarm.

Allison sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “Maybe not. It’s just-” She took a calming breath, humming softly. “Dad hasn’t checked in. He didn’t call and when I’ve called it goes straight to voicemail. Nobody can get Peter or Phil. It’s possible they’re just trying to keep things dark, but-“

“But nothing, Phil would’ve sent a message they were going dark,” Natasha said sternly. “We’re going to give them until morning and then we make a move.”

Stiles shook his head. “Gerard wouldn’t hurt his own son-“

“He said he would,” Scott said weakly. “He said he didn’t care if he had to.” He looked at Stiles. “But hopefully it’s nothing,” he attempted.

Stiles just shot him a dark look. “Don’t patronize me,” he said tightly. He looked at Clint. “Come find me if you hear from Phil,” he said, and Clint nodded, chewing on his nail. Stiles turned to leave, ducking past Derek, who was just getting there.

Derek looked around the room then back at Stiles’s retreating back. “Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?” he called, but Stiles just kept walking.

~

Derek knocked lightly on Stiles’s door. Stiles didn’t reply, but Derek took a breath and went in anyways. He peeked in first, to make sure Stiles was going to let him in and not turn him away, and felt a pang when he saw Stiles pacing, his room a mess of things thrown around. He edged in and saw Stiles had packed a bag already. “Stiles?” he said softly.

Stiles stopped and turned, then sighed, deflating some. “Go away, Derek,” he said in a tight tone.

Derek walked closer, stepping over a wayward shoe. He gently cupped Stiles’s elbow when he got beside him, guiding Stiles to face him. “How are you holding up?” he asked gently.

Stiles scoffed. “Just great!” he said sarcastically, before deflating. He looked up at Derek, then smiled weakly. “Sorry.” Derek shook his head as if to shake away the retort. Stiles closed his eyes. “My dad’s missing and my uncle probably is too, Derek.” He looked into Derek’s eyes. “Why is this happening?” he whispered, biting his lip when his voice cracked. He pulled away from Derek and walked over to start picking things up. “I just- I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned brokenly. “My God, it’s like I’ll think it’s over and it just gets _worse_. My life goes from bad to worse and worse than that, to extra worse…” He straightened and hesitated. “I’m afraid I’m never going to meet a ‘worst’ in there.”

Derek helped him, grabbing a few things. “It’s going to be okay. They’ll probably be fine and then they will find Gerard and rescue your dad-“

“Oh HORSE SHIT!” Stiles cried, wheeling around with _anger_ in his eyes. Derek jerked back slightly, taken aback by his abrupt change. “I’m so fucking SICK of people telling me things will be okay!” He threw the stuff in his hands irately towards the closet. “Everybody keeps telling me it will be okay and I’m SICK OF IT!” he cried. “I’m NOT a child! Stop handling me with kid gloves! I would rather handle the TRUTH than have people try and give me false hope!” He gave Derek a heartbreaking look, his chest heaving. “Do you know how much _false hope_ I’ve had shoved down my throat until I believe it?” he asked in a weaker tone. He laughed humorlessly, rolling his eyes. “Do you know how much worse that makes stuff? To be preparing yourself and then have someone convince you into believing ‘oh no, it’s going to be okay’ and then having to face the _crushing_ sensation when it isn’t?”

Derek just watched him, frozen, barely breathing, almost as if he was afraid a deep breath would break Stiles’s fragile composure. Stiles swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “When I was seven, I _knew_ my mom wasn’t going to be okay. I was scared, and I didn’t understand, but somehow I just knew that it was bad and she wasn’t getting better. But people kept saying ‘oh no, she’ll be okay soon, Stiles’, or ‘don’t worry, things will turn around soon’ and eventually I believed them. I _believed_ ‘mommy’s gonna get better’,” he gritted out, then shook his head. “Then she _died_. I was alone visiting her, my dad wasn’t even there, and she _died_ while I was sitting there thinking she was getting better.” He cleared his throat. “Then when I’d go stay with Scott and his mom cause my dad was too drunk for me to be around when he got back from work late, Scott’s dad would scream at him and then at Melissa when she made him stop, and Scott would cry and cry because ‘daddy hates me’ and his mom would keep promising that ‘everything’s going to be okay, just wait’ and I knew it wasn’t, and sure it was Scott, not me, but shit that hurts Scott _cripples_ me because I’d give my _life_ for him to never be hurt, you know?” He shook his head. “I started believing Melissa and then when they split up, it broke Scott! It broke him! For like a year and a half, it just ripped him apart and I was so _angry_ because if I hadn’t believed Melissa, I’d have tried to prepare him, I’d have tried to make him see it before it happened, but she convinced me!”

He kicked at the bed. “And it just KEEPS happening! It happened with Heather! I was friends with her since we were three and what happened? She went missing, my dad convinced me she’d be fine, then she was found sacrificed. My dad was missing and people kept telling me ‘oh we’ll stop the darach’ and finally for once, things WERE okay, but only because I fucking _killed myself_ basically just to save him! It almost wasn’t okay. I came seconds away from my dad dying, and now that things are supposed to be OKAY for ONCE IN THE LAST YEAR, it’s worse than ever!” he cried angrily. “So tell me, Derek! Tell me how it’s going to be okay!” He advanced on Derek slightly, stopping a few feet away from the stoic face but pained eyes of the man in front of him. “Tell me how everything will be just FINE now that not only is my dad probably dead, but my _only other relative in the entire world_ too!” He grabbed Derek’s shirt, crowding against him. “SAY IT!”

Derek closed his hands around Stiles’s wrists, gently cupping his trembling hands. “What can I do?” he pleaded, eyes desperate. “Tell me what I can do to make this better. Anything, Stiles.” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “How can I make you hurt less? Please,” he whispered weakly. He pressed Stiles’s clenched hand flat, palm against his chest so that Stiles could feel the way his heart was pounding. “Whatever you want- whatever you _need_ , tell me and I’ll make it happen. Please, I can’t stand seeing you like this.” He raised his hand to cup Stiles’s cheek, wiping away an angry tear. “Just tell me how to help.”

Stiles stared at Derek’s lips, then looked up at his eyes. Derek watched Stiles’s anger turn into something darker, almost predatory. “You wanna help?” he asked, then shifted his hold, dragging Derek into a hard, brutal kiss that was almost more painful than pleasurable.

Derek made an alarmed sound, pulling away. “Stiles, Stiles wait-“

“What? You said _anything_ ,” Stiles said, leaning in to kiss along Derek’s jaw, biting at his jawbone. “Wanna make it hurt less? Make me feel good,” he groaned, hands sliding around Derek’s waist, one hand sliding down to grab his ass as he bit down on the junction of his throat and jaw. 

Derek pushed him off again. “Stiles, stop.” He cupped his cheek, shaking his head sadly. “You’re not thinking straight, you don’t want this”

Stiles’s smirk dropped and he glared. “Oh great, now you’re gonna go with condescending?”

“No, I’m just saying, you’re upset,” Derek defended. “Stiles, I know you, and I know you’re upset, and you wouldn’t want it like this if you weren’t-“

Stiles snapped, “Derek, you're better at sex than anything else you've ever attempted, so you want to help me? Stop being useless and distract me.”

Derek froze, heart sinking. He stared at Stiles with a feeling of bile rising in his throat. He looked at the dark, twisted look on the face of the one person he cared more about than anything and he couldn’t believe he had just said that. Stiles was his _mate_. He had thought they were making progress. Things were still uneasy, but he thought they were at least on less shaky footing. All their time spent together just taking comfort from each other’s presence, the kiss they had shared, the way Stiles held his hand for strength…

And apparently all he was in the end was just a body to provide service. 

( _As always_ , his mind offered unhelpfully.) Stiles looked at him expectantly, anger still behind his eyes. Derek closed his eyes briefly. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should turn around and walk out. He should tell Stiles to come find him when he was calmed down, but instead, he opened his eyes with his face schooled into being as blank, empty, cold and clinical as possible and then nodded. He closed the gap between them and pulled Stiles into a kiss. Stiles took control of the kiss, yanking Derek closer until their bodies were flush from chest to knees. 

Derek pulled Stiles back to the bed, shoving off a few random articles of clothing left with a sweep of his arm as he lowered Stiles onto his back, crawling on top of him. Stiles went for Derek’s shirt and Derek stood on his knees, stripping it off over his head wordlessly. He let Stiles touch his chest as he kissed down Stiles’s throat, but every touch that should be pleasurable was like ice water on his skin. He almost vindictively ripped off Stiles’s shirt, but he caught himself and reined in his hurt. He pushed Stiles’s shirt up, shoving it off. Stiles laughed when it got caught on his wrists and he threw it, smiling up at Derek as he settled back against the pillows.

Derek stopped for a moment, mesmerized by how beautiful Stiles looked. He was so angry at himself for looking at Stiles half-naked and flushed beneath him and being unable to drown out his arousal – not to mention the way his insides clenched over how _beautiful_ Stiles was – with the still-present smarting of Stiles’s remark. He leaned in and kissed down Stiles’s chest, everything inside him warring between frustrating at not being able to turn off the way he felt for Stiles and a heartrending level of _hurt_ because Stiles just saw him as a ‘distraction’.

So many times, Derek wanted to just stop and walk away. Every time Stiles’s touch sent sparks through every nerve ending in his body, Derek wanted to tell Stiles he wasn’t a plaything. Every _breathtaking_ sound that fell from Stiles’s lips as Derek filled his body in ways no one ever had before was like a knife to Derek’s heart because it was both the most amazing thing Derek had ever felt, being so fully connected with his _mate_ , and so utterly painful because they weren’t making love like Derek had dreamed of one day doing with Stiles. It wasn’t the first sexual encounter of his life that _wasn’t wrong_. 

It was just another fuck that someone wanted because Derek was pretty and they wanted to use his body for their own selfish agenda.

When they were finished and Stiles was still lying breathless, panting as he squirmed slightly, residual pleasure coursing through him, Derek caught his breath and crawled out of bed, the crushing guilt and anger crashing down around him. He didn’t even bother cleaning up before finding his clothes and pulling them on quickly and efficiently. It wasn’t until he had grabbed his shoes, deciding not to bother taking the time to put them on before leaving, that Stiles rolled over and looked at him. “Mmmm, Derek?” he asked, blinking sleepily at him as he rolled onto his belly, chin propped on his hands. “You going?” he asked absently, eyelids fluttering.

Derek nodded jerkily. “Yeah, gotta do stuff,” he said and Stiles gave him a searching look, but nodded.

“I guess if you have to-“

“I do, need to talk about what we’re doing next,” he lied, walking towards the door. 

He was reaching out for the doorknob when Stiles called his name “Hey Derek.”

Derek turned back some. “Yes, Stiles?”

Stiles gave him a smirk. “Thanks.”

Derek’s chest clenched and he turned back to the door as he bit down on his emotions, refusing to let anything show. His hand shook on the knob he gripped it so tightly. He had to clench his jaw to steady his voice to reply, “Goodnight, Stiles,” before opening the door and leaving. He kept his strides steady and his head high until he was gone from Stiles, Danny, and the twins’ suite.

~

Stiles yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen. He sat at the counter, feeling weird at being alone. Most of the time, if he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, Phil joined him. Stiles felt a pang as he realized that, somewhere in the weeks he’d known Phil, he’d really started to care about him. He wasn’t just some obscure relative, he was a funny guy with a great sense of sarcasm. He and Stiles got along so well. All of this crap, all of the shit that wasn’t _supposed_ to happen, had just brought them closer together. Phil was _family_. 

Between his dad being missing and Phil probably missing, he was reaching a level of ‘done’ with all of it that he didn’t know he could reach. He almost genuinely wanted to just say ‘fuck it’ and get his dad and Phil back, then leave Beacon Hills forever. “Dad can go back to being a deputy somewhere else,” he muttered to himself.

“Kind of selfish, don’t you think?” He looked up, startled to see Clint sliding down from the air vent above the refrigerator.

“What the hell?!” Stiles squeaked and Clint smiled faintly.

“Avoiding Tony. Shhhh,” he said, going to the refrigerator to grab a beer. “Want something?” he asked absently.

Stiles snorted. “Any chance you’ll give me the keys to Tony’s liquor cabinet and not tell?”

Clint chuckled and came back with a soda, putting it in front of Stiles. “Sorry, kid, your Uncle would have my balls if I gave you alcohol,” he said, and Stiles’s smile slipped. Clint sighed, leaning against the counter across from him. “I know,” he said tersely.

Stiles shook his head. “I really like Phil. I don’t want anything to happen to him. Also, if something happened to him and my dad both, then I’m officially an orphan, dude.”

Clint cringed. “I know how that goes,” he said, but shook his head. “No civilian can take out Phil Coulson. He hung in there when a god stabbed him through the chest. He can handle this Gerard guy and all his buddies. Don’t worry.”

Stiles rubbed at his temples. “I didn’t think Gerard could’ve got the best of my dad either, though.” He smiled faintly. “My dad’s a total badass, dude. He may be fifty-four, but he’s a crack shot, he’s a killer fighter, and he isn’t afraid of anything.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t care if I’m too old to think my dad’s still ‘cool’, because really, how many kids can say their dad is the _sheriff_. He saves people’s lives and stuff. I’ll always think that’s just as cool now as it was when I was little,” he admitted.

Clint smiled. “Sounds like you guys have something in common,” he said. “You may not be a fighter, but everybody says you’re fearless and save people.”

Stiles shook his head. “I’m always scared, dude.”

“I’m gonna get cheesy here,” Clint warned, “and say ‘courage isn’t the absence of fear’ because trust me, it’s always scary.” He shook his head. “I was a mercenary. I killed people for money before Phil got me out of that. I have committed stone cold murder and yet every time I go out there on an op, I’m scared. I’m sure Phil is scared, your dad is probably scared. Being scared isn’t a defect, it’s common sense telling you to stop and run and hide. Bravery is pushing that aside and doing what’s right no matter how scary it is.” He tapped the counter in front of Stiles. “You’re scared because Phil and your dad are the only family you have. But you’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?” he asked, though he clearly knew the answer. “When it comes in in a few hours that we’re flying out, you’ll come with us, or if they try and stop you, you’ll get there some other way no matter what.”

Stiles nodded, smiling tightly. “I’m going back to Beacon Hills. You can stop a few of them probably, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying here. I’ve got my stuff packed and I’m going home to find my dad and my uncle.” He looked up. “You’re gonna help me kill Gerard, right?”

Clint shook his head. “You’re not killing him,” he said and Stiles started to argue. “No,” he stressed. “You are a smart kid with a future. I’m not letting that kind of darkness ruin your life. If it comes down to somebody having to make the kill shot, it will _not_ be you,” he stressed. “Phil and your father would never let me off the hook for that.”

Stiles shot him a look. “You’re going to let him live, aren’t you.”

Clint nodded. “Phil will want it that way. He wants people to pay for what they did. Death is an easy out in his view.”

Stiles cringed. “I just hope Phil’s still around to have that view.”

“If this guy killed Phil, I make no promises,” Clint said simply, taking a sip of his beer.

Stiles smirked. “So, when are you and Phil finally gonna get your heads out of your asses?”

Clint choked on his beer and glared. “WHAT?!” he coughed out. “Dude NO! I-“ Stiles gave him a flat look and he smiled sheepishly. “As soon as Phil stops pretending he doesn’t love me back,” he admitted without shame, even if his ears were a little pink. He sighed dreamily. “I fell for that man the first time an op with him went south and he came back to get me when SHIELD wrote me off as an acceptable loss. Nobody had ever given two shits about me, then suddenly here’s this suit with a pretty plain face and thinning hair and who looked like he didn’t even belong in the field, coming through a cloud of smoke and dust like a goddamn Antonio Banderas in Desperado. Gun in one hand, still wearing his suit and tie, looking totally unshaken. I realized ‘holy shit, Coulson is a badass!’ and then ‘dude, him looking like a regular guy is almost hotter than if he was a Calvin Klein model who was this kind of a badass!’ and I was pretty much gone.”

Stiles made a face but laughed. “Ew, no offense but I’ll take the Calvin Klein model, I cannot look at my middle aged uncle the same way you do, thank GOD.”

The lights came up around them, which was the only precursor to Tony, Bruce, and his friends coming in, all looking half asleep and grumpy. “Well I sure as hell hope you can’t, Stilinski,” Jackson grumbled, going over to the table to pour himself into a chair.”

“Besides,” Danny said, winking at Derek, who had slid into the kitchen almost unnoticed and taken up a spot by the doorway. “You already got a Calvin Klein model.”

“Alright, time for serious news,” Natasha announced coming in with Steve with her. “Phil is officially missing, which means we’re flying out in two hours.”

“And by ‘we’, she means her, Steve, and Clint,” Tony clarified. “No reason to make waves by me showing up in town, Bruce isn’t the best for tense situations, and Steve isn’t very publicly visible so he’s our best option to round out their team. 

Allison stood up. “What about us?” she demanded. “Need I remind you that my _father_ is missing? My dad is the ONLY family I have.”

Tony shrugged. “Sorry but we’re not risking children messing up the op to get Phil-“

“I’ve already made it clear that I’m going to Beacon Hills,” Stiles said firmly. “I’m going if I have to find my own way.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Then start walking. Maybe you’ll get there in a few months-“

“These are our _only_ family,” Allison argued, walking over to stand beside Stiles. “Stiles and I are going home. You can’t stop us!”

“I can get Tony to hack in and put you on the no fly list,” Natasha countered smoothly. 

“And I can fix it,” Danny said from the table, Ethan tensing beside him. “Look, most of us are willing to stay out of the way, but Beacon Hills is Scott’s territory, Chris is Allison’s only family member, and Phil and John are Stiles’.” He raised an eyebrow. “You think you can stop an alpha, a highly trained hunter, and a human hell-bent on saving his father that still hasn’t shown you his magic?” he asked.

Allison and Stiles gave him a small set of matching smiles. Clint smiled in amusement. “Tash, Stiles has the right to do what he wants.”

“He’s a minor,” she argued.

“I’m not,” Allison said pointedly.

Derek sighed from the doorway. “Just let them go,” he said. “Allison is going to shoot you all in a minute – and trust me, it hurts – and nothing can stop Stiles if he sets his mind to something,” he said firmly. Stiles turned a small smile his way.

“See? Derek’s gonna come too,” he added. “We need more muscle and it’s one of the things Derek’s good for.” Derek’s gut clenched and he flinched slightly at the offhanded remark.

Stiles then had the nerve to give him a flirty wink and Derek couldn’t help but add on to his last statement. “He’ll make it to Beacon Hills no matter what you do to stop him because he’s manipulative and conniving, he can get anybody to do whatever the hell he wants, and no matter how much you think you’ve got resolve, he’ll break it.”

Stiles turned back, shock on his face. “Manipulative?! What the fuck, Derek?! Conniving? Seriously?” he asked incredulously. 

Derek shrugged. “Didn’t say anything that isn’t true-“

“What the hell, where do you get off calling me manipulative?” Stiles demanded. “Being good at getting what I want doesn’t make me ‘manipulative’!”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “That’s kind of exactly what manipulative means,” he pointed out. 

Stiles’s eyes flared and he squared his shoulders. “I’m convincing, not conniving. You would know all about that one, huh?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue. “You really want to bring up my track record with manipulation, Stiles? After all the crap that’s happened since I’ve been here, you don’t get to judge me for being easily manipulated when you’re one of the ones who did it-“

“WHEN have I manipulated you?” Stiles cried in contempt. “I was the one to reach out and try and fix the shit you pulled -“

“What the fuck do you call last night?!” Derek demanded, losing track of exactly where he was and what was happening around him as he lost his cool. The red mist had descended and he couldn’t stop getting out all of the hurt and anger that had built up inside of him. “You talk about trying to fix shit? You said, I’m not Kate, and you were RIGHT!” Derek glared Stiles down. “Because you’re just one more name to add to the list next to Kate and Jennifer of ‘manipulative people who decided to use Derek because they know how easy it is’!”

Stiles stared, as did half of the kitchen. “Derek… what?!” he asked, shaking his head. “What are you even talking about-“

Derek let out a frustrated sound. “‘You’re better at sex than anything else you’ve ever attempted, so stop being useless and distract me’,” Derek quoted at him. 

Stiles paled when he heard his own words, spoken in an angry and scared moment, quoted back at him. “Derek-“

Derek gave Natasha a flat look. “Trust me, nothing’s going to happen to Stiles if you take him, because every person I’ve ever cared about either used me or died, and so he’s not in any danger of dying.” He turned and left the kitchen in silence.

Stiles put his head in his hands, then shook his head, straightening up, his face a mask of ‘purely business’. “Back to the original point, I’m going to Beacon Hills whether you take me with you or not. I will find a way, don’t even think you can stop me.”

Clint cleared his throat, bouncing back faster than most of the kitchen. “Don’t worry, even if she said no, I’d have smuggled you guys onto the jet,” he promised Stiles, Scott, and Allison. 

Nobody else seemed keen to argue back in the stunned silence of the kitchen at dawn.

~

Stiles sat with his crumpled map of the preserve in his lap the whole flight. Scott was buckled in on his right and Allison on his left. Derek had come as well – after all Peter might not be dead and he _was_ Derek’s uncle no matter how probably evil he was – but he was at the front, skulking around in the cockpit watching Natasha and Clint. Steve was reading from across them.

“Hey Stiles?” Allison asked, picking at her jeans. “So, we’re friends, right?”

Stiles gave her a suspicious look. “Yes… why do I have a feeling you’re up to something horrible?”

She shot him a look through her bangs. “What did you do to Derek that pissed him off so bad?” she asked quickly, giving him a sheepish look as she did so.

Stiles paled, looking away. “I think I did something bad,” he said softly.

“Dude, what could you have done to piss him off like that?” Scott asked. “I mean…” He made a face. “You clearly ‘spent the night together’,” he said and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Scott, you can’t even say ‘had sex’-“

“I never want to think about Derek Hale having sex,” Scott said, horrified. “Ew, Stiles!” Allison snickered at him. “But whatever, what happened if… that happened, but he was angry?”

Stiles groaned, thumping his head back against the headrest of the seat. “It’s a long story but I’m pretty sure I did something horrible without even meaning to.” He groaned. “Didn’t even _mean_ it.”

Allison smiled sadly. “Everybody freaks out and hurts the people they love. Don’t worry, he’ll get over it,” she comforted, but Stiles just shook his head.

“I doubt it,” he muttered softly. “You don’t know Derek like I do,” he mumbled, hoping the sound of the plane covered them from Derek’s hearing. “He probably hates me now.”

Up front, staring out the cockpit window over Clint’s head, arms crossed and jaw clenched, Derek fought against every instinct that said Stiles was telling the truth back in the passenger area. 

He’d had enough of being tricked by his stupid emotions.

~

As soon as they landed, they wasted no time. Scott went home to make sure his mom was safe while Allison took them to her father’s storage unit. Even Clint and Natasha seemed impressed as Allison started arming them in addition to what they had brought. “These are meant for werewolves,” she said, holding up a flash-bomb arrow to Clint. “But it works just as well on anybody with retinas,” she said simply, giving him some. She turned to Stiles. “What can you use? You’ve never had weapons in a fight before.”

Stiles cringed. “I- I can shoot. My dad taught me,” he admitted. “But I really don’t trust my aim, so-“

“Taser?” she suggested. “Or a cattle prod. Non-lethal so you can’t kill anybody by accident.” She handed him a taser and he put it in his pocket. 

“Maybe no on the cattle prod? I’ll drop it or something and get myself,” he said with a weak chuckle. 

“Here.” Clint came back from the case in the corner with a collapsible baton. He opened it up and then held it out to Stiles. “Keep distance between you and anybody attacking you. May not help much if there’s a gun in the mix, but it’ll knock someone out.”

Stiles took it and nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.” He smiled weakly. “Hopefully you guys can do the fighting, I can do the rescuing.”

Allison looked at Derek. “Can you know if Peter’s alive or not? If he’s alive, Stiles can let him out first and we’ve got an extra set of claws.”

Derek shook his head. “I won’t know until we get close enough to smell blood or death. He’s probably dead, though,” he said tersely. “Gerard hates him more than anything and there’s no reason to keep him alive like the humans.”

Natasha shouldered a gun and turned around. “Let’s hope not, I kinda liked him,” she said with a quirk of an eyebrow, nodding at Clint. “Good?”

Clint grinned and slid on a second quiver of arrows. “I’m great!” He clapped Stiles on the shoulder. “Let’s go get your dad and Phil,” he said, leading them back outside.

They went to meet Scott and then set out for the forest. Stiles took the humans in his jeep after they picked it up and Scott and Derek ran through the woods, taking a shortcut. “The island I was talking about isn’t near the old Hale House,” Stiles explained to Allison. “That’s why most of us didn’t think about it. Most of the bad shit that’s happened happened near the Hale House if it was in the preserve, so this wasn’t even an idea yet.”

“What’s the Hale House?” Clint asked, leaning between the seats from the back. “Derek’s name is Hale, right?”

Allison’s jaw clenched and she looked out the window. “My family is a hunter family, you know?” Clint nodded. “My aunt burned his family house down.” 

“Ew, that sucks.”

She looked ahead. “With his entire family inside,” she added and Clint actually gaped.

“Whoa. Crap.”

Stiles nodded. “Peter made it and killed Gerard’s daughter for what she did so he _really_ hates Hales. Peter’s probably dead, but there’s still hope for our dads.” He took them off the paved road down a gravel path. They turned a few corners before Stiles slowed to a stop just as Derek walked out of the trees to meet them, Scott coming behind him. They parked and got out, circling the jeep to meet them. “So, any sign?”

Scott nodded gravely. “I can smell at least your dads,” he said. “And Gerard’s particular brand of ‘magical undead’.”

Derek nodded. “About two miles east, I’d say. Are we going to go now or wait until it’s dark?” he asked, looking up at the sky through the canopy.

Clint looked up at the sky them around in the woods. “Give it about half an hour. The sun is setting and it’ll get dark fast in here. Half an hour and we start moving. _Slowly and quietly_ ,” he clarified. “Nat and I will probably take out ahead of you guys, but we’re going to set up where nobody sees us. They won’t know what’s going on when bullets and arrows start coming from high in the trees.”

Allison nodded. “Scott will be able to hear you just speak softly, so when you’re in position, let us know and then give us one minute before firing a flash arrow. Blind them and we can come in before they can react.”

Stiles agreed. “Okay, first things first.” He looked at Scott and Derek and Steve. “You three cover me and Allison to find our parents Allison’s going to watch my back while I start freeing them and when they’re free, as long as they’re able to, she and I are going to get them out. Once we’re out, I’ll call 9-1-1 and we can get out while the department does its job, okay?”

Clint turned to them all. “We’re _not_ killing anybody that we don’t have to. I won’t have kids with a kill on their conscience.” They all nodded and he glanced at Natasha. “Alright, then we should be good to go soon.”

~

Stiles’s heart was pounding. He and Allison were squatting behind a bush while Derek and Scott lay behind a log ahead of them. Steve stuck out too much so he was further back behind a larger tree. They could _see_ Gerard’s camp. They had built a small bridge across to the bank and it was guarded, but on the opposite side of the island, they didn’t even have a lookout. It was like they didn’t expect a threat to want to risk the cold water. It was dangerous, sure, but Stiles was more than willing to risk hypothermia if he meant saving his dad and Phil. 

“The tent with the guard,” Allison muttered, handing Stiles the binoculars. “It’s the green one. That’s where our parents are, I’m sure.”

Stiles paled slightly when he saw a smear of blood on the tent flap. “Blood.”

“I know.” She lifted her head some to look at Scott and Derek. “You guys make sure you’re not looking when the shot comes,” she said and they both made barely-there nods that she could see in the dimming light. Nobody had a flashlight, but most of them had above average vision and he and Allison would have enough light to get across the creek and into the compound. It was far from the first time they had been out at night in the woods without light. Everything was tense as they waited. Suddenly, Derek raised his hand and held up one finger – the signal that they had one minute – and Stiles and Allison got ready to run. Stiles glanced back at Steve, and Steve nodded that he had understood. 

Stiles had to take a moment to appreciate how funny _Captain America_ looked in camo.

They were all poised, muscles tight like a bow string drawn to full draw, fingertips poised to release at any moment. It was the longest minute of Stiles’s life before suddenly the island was lit up by a blinding flash and a cacophony of screams and shouts. Immediately Derek and Scott sprung forward in beta form, clearing the jump from one bank to the other in a single bound.

Steve rushed past them, leaping the same way, rushing into the melee as hungers blindly stumbled around, trying to see where the attack was coming from. Those who had been inside tents and shielded from the flash were the first to open fire just as Allison and Stiles hit the water. Unlike their superhuman friends, they had to wade the icy creek. Stiles whined through his teeth and he heard Allison gasping at the pain of what felt like a thousand needles stabbing into them from hip to toe. When they got across, they both were on shaky feet but there was nothing to do but push through the even worse pain of their wet legs in the open winter air. Allison shot one hunter in their way with an arrow to the shoulder before they sprinted for the prisoners tent and ducked in. Once they were inside, Allison stood at the door looking out while Stiles fumbled his way up to his feet, only to stop and stare in almost horror.

His dad was bound and gagged with his back to the same pole as Phil – who was facing empty canvas and still had a blindfold on – right across from the pole where Chris and Peter were bound. His father looked mostly alright, just bloody wrists and a black eye. Phil had blood on his suit, but he appeared mostly okay. Chris had a _lot_ of blood on his clothes and bruises _everywhere_. The worst, however, was Peter. He was clearly alive, but even with his werewolf healing, there were deep, slow-bleeding gashes up and down his torso. There was enough blood on the ground around him that Stiles didn’t doubt that he would be dead if he were human. 

Stiles ignored his original plan to free Peter first for the extra set of claws. He was clearly beyond too injured to fight. He rushed instead to Phil, using the knife Allison had given him to cut his bounds and slice the knot on his blindfold. “Phil?” Stiles asked, but Phil was too his feet almost instantly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said simply. 

“Catch.” Allison threw Phil a gun and he caught it, checking the clip, before cocking it. 

“Out of the way, Ms. Argent,” Phil said, stepping out of the tent.

Stiles untied his dad next, only to be pulled into a crushing hug. “Dad- Dad you’re hurt, stop!”

“You shouldn’t be here, but I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, releasing Stiles so he could go to free Chris. By the time Chris was cut loose, John was up and limping over. Chris immediately turned around and knelt to help balance Peter while Stiles cut him free. “Shit, he’s still alive?” John asked in horror as they carefully maneuvered Peter’s unconscious form to the tent floor.

Chris felt for a pulse and nodded. “We’ll need help getting him out.” He glanced between them. “Or we can leave him and come back later when we’ve regrouped?”

Stiles shrugged at his dad. “Eh, nobody would really miss Peter-“

“Stiles, we are not letting the man stay here to die,” John chastised.

“Guys!” Allison interrupted. “We have to go. Like, now. The flash only stunned them for so long. We’re outnumbered-“

Stiles stood up quickly. “Get to Derek, he can carry Peter most easily. We’ve got to get you guys out, he said, sliding under his dad’s arm to help him move faster with his limp. “Chris you okay?”

Chris nodded, grabbing a gun from Allison. “We’ll clear you guys a path,” he said, kissing Allison’s forehead once before they shared a look then turned in unison to go out, guns raised, ahead of Stiles and his father.

With his father injured, Stiles took them towards the bridge rather than the water. They rushed across, dodging bullets and one Scott-on-hunter fight as they got across the bridge. Natasha leapt down from a tree, landing smoothly – and scaring the crap out of Stiles – and offered her hand to John, slinging his arm over her shoulder to free Stiles. “Come on, let’s get them to the jeep. You guys get them out of here, Clint and I will hide in the woods near the road to make sure they don’t escape before the cops come.” He turned to the trees and whistled loudly. She received one in return and they took off through the woods. 

Phil, Scott, Steve, and Clint all caught up to them since they were moving slow with John unable to walk on his own. “Let’s get them out of here,” Phil said, putting his gun in his jacket as he went to the head of the group.

Stiles, however, stopped. “Wait-“ He looked around, eyes searching. Dread filled him when he didn’t find a familiar pair of green eyes looking back at him from the group. “Where’s Derek?!” he demanded quickly.

Everybody looked around, clearly nobody having noticed his absence. “I’m sure he heard the signal-“ Clint was cut off by a loud, pained howl that reverberated through the trees so loudly that Stiles could feel it in his chest. 

Scott’s eyes flashed red and he actually whined in pain, shrinking back against a tree slightly before shaking his head as if his ears hurt. Panic rose in Stiles as he met Scott’s horrified eyes. “No, Derek!” he choked out, turning immediately, ignoring the calls of his name as he sprinted through the forest, not caring how loud he was as he rushed back to the island. He jumped into the creek without hesitation, totally ignoring how much deeper the water was in that spot. The icy water burning him up to his chest didn’t even register as he scrambled out of the water on the other side. He heard Phil and John both shouting his name from where he’d abandoned the group, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fixed on the sight in the middle of the camp.

Gerard Argent himself was standing there with a cattle prod, laughing down at Derek even as he balanced himself with a cane. There were at least a dozen hunters in various states of injured or dead around the camp, but in the middle of it, Derek was on his back, body twitching as Gerard and one other hunter took turns poking him with cattle prods. When Stiles stumbled into the camp, livid and soaking, they turned to him in surprise. “Well now. I remember you, Mr. Stilinski. What on earth are you doing back? You got your father, I noticed,” he sneered. “I was disappointed, but… well, two werewolves. That’s not a bad trade.” He prodded Derek again, causing him to howl out, body bowing off the ground.

“STOP!” Stiles cried, stumbling forward a few steps before common sense stopped him. “Look, you wanted me, right? I know you did. Well here I am,” he said evenly.

Gerard laughed darkly. “I wanted to break the alpha. I may not have the alpha in my grasp, but two betas – both Hale betas – is more than satisfactory.” He nodded to his companion. “Handle the boy.”

The man turned and advanced on Stiles. Stiles saw Derek lift his head and start to speak, but Stiles waited until the man was close enough before flipping out his baton and bringing it up, whipping it faster than the man could dodge, catching him in the side of the head. The hunter didn’t even make a noise as he crumpled, falling to the ground unconscious before he even landed. “Nice try,” Stiles growled at Gerard as he approached him slowly, hand in his pocket on the taser. “You wanna get me? Do it yourself, you son of a bitch.”

“STILES!” Stiles fought the urge to turn back when he heard Phil’s voice behind him. “Stiles, get back-“

An arrow flew over Stiles’s shoulder, but Gerard was able to dodge it, deflecting with his cattle prod. “Any closer and I could hit Stiles,” Allison said, and Stiles did turn back this time, having expected Clint. When he saw Allison and Phil approaching, weapons drawn, he knew Clint had gone high and Scott was somewhere in the shadows. 

Turning his back, however, was a mistake. Stiles screamed out loudly, a scream so inhumanly pain-filled it echoed, when Gerard got him in the back with the cattle prod. Stiles crumpled, gritting his teeth as the pain abetted, leaving a pained tingling running through his limbs. “Don’t you-“ Derek’s angry growl from behind Stiles was cut off with a pained cry and the unmistakable sound of electricity. Stiles was still curled in a ball, trembling, when a rough hand dug into his upper arm and he was yanked up to his feet. He stumbled back against Gerard’s chest and Gerard curled a hand around his throat, turning him so that he was facing the humans. 

“Get in front of us,” Gerard growled at Derek, hitting him with his cane as he stumbled away from them, stopping between Allison and Phil and Stiles and Gerard. Stiles saw the panic in Derek’s eyes as he watched Gerard holding Stiles by the throat. “Drop the gun and bow, or Mr. Stilinski will pay for it,” Gerard said, tightening his hold on Stiles’s throat until it cut off his breathing just enough to make him gasp in panic.

“Okay, okay!” Phil lowered his gun and Allison did the same. “Look, Mr. Argent, hunting werewolves is one thing, but that boy is a human.”

Gerard chuckled darkly. “He chose to run with wolves. He can die alongside them.”

Derek held up his hands, shaking his head. “Don’t do it. Look, Argent, you have my uncle. I’ll let you take me willingly, I won’t fight, just let Stiles go. Let him go and you can end the Hale’s for good,” he bargained. 

Gerard smirked darkly and Stiles saw dread flicker across Derek’s face. “Or I can do both,” Gerard said simply and, before anybody could even react, he drew a gun nobody had seen, raised the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

Allison screamed in surprise at the gunshot, but Stiles cried out in horror as he saw the bullet hit Derek in the abdomen. “DEREK!” he cried out, struggling against Gerard’s hold. “Derek?” Derek looked up, meeting his eyes with a blank face, hand straying towards the gunshot wound, before collapsing to his knees and then falling backwards and to the side.

Stiles struggled again until Gerard clamped down on his throat once more. “No, no, no, you’re going nowhere,” Gerard said. He raised the gun at Allison and Phil. “Wolfsbane bullets are just as deadly to humans as normal bullets,” Gerard said with a grim smile. “One step closer, I dare you.”

Phil shook his head. “No, not at all. Just don’t hurt the boy.”

Stiles was staring down at Derek’s unmoving form, tears burning his eyes. “Derek? D- Derek?” he whimpered, shaking his head. “No, please!”

Gerard chuckled. “Oh yes, your disgusting mongrel of a friend is dead.” He yanked Stiles upright again. “Call the rest of your friends out into the open,” Gerard instructed. “I know there’s more of you.”

Phil sighed, but nodded. Immediately Clint dropped from the trees, landing beside Phil on his feet, and Natasha melted out of the darkness with Scott beside her. Scott glared at Gerard. “The others went for help, so you know you’re just stalling the inevitable.”

Gerard chuckled. “I don’t think so. I’ve got another werewolf to kill. Hopefully three if you’ll stick around like a good boy,” he drawled.

Stiles watched the barrel twist to Scott and he growled under his breath, his mind full of how terrified Derek had looked as he fell. “I have bad news for you, Gerard,” he gritted out.

“Oh yes?” Gerard asked, clearly amused.

Stiles gave Clint a grim look, eyes locked with his in silent apology for breaking Clint’s promise and for using the one strength he had kept to himself after learning of Clint’s fear. “You shouldn’t have shot my mate, you son of a bitch,” he spat out acridly. He held out his right hand to the left, muttered under his breath, eyes never leaving Clint’s as knife flew from the ground into his hand. Stiles didn’t even hesitate catch it blade down and thrust it into Gerard’s chest behind him. Gerard gave a startled sound, hand tightening on Stiles’s throat. Stiles gave the knife a vicious jerk upwards. Gerard gave a strangled gurgle, and his hand went lax. Stiles didn’t even stumble as suddenly Gerard’s weight fell away from behind him. 

“STILES!” Scott cried in alarm, but Stiles turned and scrambled for the gun Gerard had been holding and dropped as he fell. He rushed back to Derek just as the others descended on them. “Oh God, what did you _do_ -“

“Shut up and give me a lighter,” Stiles barked out, pulling the clip from the gun. He pulled out a bullet and used the same knife he’d sank into Gerard’s body to get to the wolfbane. He shoved Derek over flat, ripping his shirt open with his hands. “Derek? Derek, c’mon,” he muttered desperately. He had a pulse so he had a chance. Stiles lit and ground the wolfsbane into Derek’s gunshot wound. “Please, please, please,” he whispered. Derek didn’t react to the pain and he whined, tears staining his cheeks. “No, no, please Derek. You fucking wake up right now, I swear to God-“

Derek suddenly gasped for breath, body bowing as he gritted his teeth against the pain. His eyes flashed blue, teeth elongating as he scrabbled at the ground, before falling flat, panting hard. His eyes fluttered open and he stared at the sky. “Holy crap that hurts,” he growled out.

Stiles let out a triumphant sound, raising his hands towards the sky before falling forward, curling his arms around Derek as he cried into his chest. Derek weakly raised a hand and curled it around Stiles, hanging his hand in Stiles’s hair but otherwise not interfering.

~

At the hospital, Stiles sat in the waiting room while the doctors put a cast on his dad’s broken foot. Clint and Allison were with him since they were waiting for Phil and Chris to be checked out as well. Scott and Derek had gone to get Peter somewhere safe while he healed and Steve and Natasha had gone to contact the rest of the group back in New York about the mission. 

Stiles was staring down at his hands when Clint tensed beside him. He looked at Clint, raised an eyebrow at the slightly flushed look on his face, and then followed his gaze only to see Phil striding towards them. Stiles took in the bruised face and bloody knuckles, combined with the dirty and torn suit, all accompanied by a calm, unerring stride and tilted his head. He could almost see why Clint might find that attractive. He looked back at Clint, who seemed to not be breathing, and elbowed him lightly. “Go on, dude. This is your moment. Don’t screw around until it’s too late,” he muttered. Clint gave him a glance, but then looked back and took a breath.

“Fuck it, you’re right,” he said quickly. He stood up and, as Phil grew nearer, Clint purposefully strode up to meet him and, without waiting for him to react, Clint grabbed Phil by the lapels of his ruined suit and pulled him into a kiss right there in the waiting room. Stiles and Allison both gaped as, rather than flounder for a bit, Phil simply caught Clint’s hips and kissed back almost as if the surprise kiss had been choreographed. Allison let out a soft ‘awww’ and Stiles grinned when Clint’s hands slid from Phil’s chest to his face, gently cupping his jaw, fingers slotted behind his ears, as the kiss softened until, finally, Clint pulled back, breathing hard but smiling. “Sir.”

Phil chuckled. “I’m okay, Clint,” he whispered, then kissed Clint’s temple before sliding out of his arms, going to Allison and Stiles. “Your fathers should both be out soon,” he announced. He almost instinctually held out his left hand when Clint came up behind him, catching Clint’s free hand absently. “I need to go talk to Director Fury from the plane, but I’ll be in constant contact if you need me, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, smiling. “I’m okay.”

Phil’s smiled was almost sad as he nodded. “Of course you are,” he said, glancing down at Gerard’s blood on Stiles’s jeans, before nodding and walking off with Clint in tow.

Allison smiled. “Awww, that’s sweet.”

Stiles smirked. “About damn time!” he said. Allison tensed suddenly and he turned to her. “What? What’s wrong?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing!” She stood up suddenly. “I’m gonna go get something to eat and call Scott, be back!” she said abruptly.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her retreating back, only to see a flash to his left just in time to turn and find Derek sitting down beside him. “Derek!” he gasped, grabbing at his chest. “God, you need a bell,” he complained.

Derek was in clean clothes, but he still looked pretty worse for wear. “Allison saw me coming, you should be more observant.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “She’s a trained hunter, I’m not,” he countered.

Derek tensed. “Stiles… are you okay?”

Stiles winced some. “Nothing that won’t heal,” he said dismissively. “They said the burns from the shock are superficial, there’s no damage to my heart or brain from it, and the bruises on my throat will fade.”

“What about the fact you _killed_ someone?” Derek asked gently, looking up to meet Stiles’s eyes.

Stiles smiled tightly, eyes shining fiercely, not fearfully. “Gerard Argent tortured me. He kidnapped my father. He tried to kill all my friends at some point. He was about to shoot Scott.” He stared into Derek’s eyes as he spoke. “He _shot you_ ,” he pointed out. “I thought you were dead and he did it. I don’t feel sorry for stabbing him.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed some. “I hate that you had to kill someone. That kind of darkness-“

“Isn’t anything more than the darkness already in my soul from the little commune with the Nemeton a few months back,” Stiles said honestly. He shrugged. “It’s worth it.”

Derek sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “When I saw you coming into the camp again, when I saw you had _come back_ , I wanted to kill you, Stiles,” he admitted weakly. “You were so stupid to come back. I wanted to strangle you because you were going to get yourself killed-“

“What, you think I would’ve left you there?” Stiles challenged. “I realized you weren’t with us about the time we heard you howl and it was like I’d swallowed that fucking cold ass water from the creek.”

Derek clenched his jaw, looking ahead. “Why do you care anyways?” he asked abruptly, almost nervous sounding. “I swear to God, Stiles, you give me so many mixed signals. Am I just a body for you to use, or do you care? I just need to know,” he all but pleaded, eyes staring ahead at the wall across from them.

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and his chest tightened. He slid his hand into Derek’s loosely resting hand, willing him to press their hands together. “Derek?” Derek sighed and let his head fall some as he curled his fingers around Stiles’s longer, thinner ones. Stiles looked at Derek until he turned and met his eyes. Stiles shook his head, swallowing back waves of guilt. “I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “Not ‘didn’t mean to say what I really think’, but I said it because I was so angry and upset and I knew it would hurt you.” He swallowed hard, blinking. “I do it to my dad. I do it to Scott. It’s horrible. I’m a terrible person. I know that. But I just- when my temper snaps I don’t screw around, I go for the jugular. I was so stressed and it isn’t an excuse, but I said what I did because I wanted to make you react.”

Derek met his eyes, thinly veiled fear swimming around in his wide, _young looking_ eyes. He looked his age for once as he spoke. “I know you’re an asshole Stiles, but you- you made me feel so stupid. You made me feel like I was the stupid sixteen year old who had been tricked into thinking someone loved me and I felt _sick_ because you’re my _mate_.” He shook his head. “And I felt even more stupid because you are so beautiful that I couldn’t even say no and just leave, I couldn’t stop myself from enjoying every second of being _used_ -“

“I am so sorry,” Stiles choked out. He reached out and curled his hand around Derek’s cheek, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “I know no amount of sorry will ever fix what I made you feel, or erase how horrible I was to you,” he acknowledged. He shook his head, eyes fixed on Derek’s. “But you have to know that I-“ Stiles chuckled weakly, eyes twinkling with fresh tears and something deeper that Derek dared not to hope was what he thought it was until the very words he _craved_ tumbled from Stiles’s lips. “I love you, Derek.” 

Derek stared into Stiles’s eyes for so long Stiles felt like he was going to vibrate into a thousand pieces as he fought to hold still and stay silent until Derek spoke. “You came back for me,” Derek finally said in voice almost too vulnerable to have come from the usually-gruff man Stiles knew so well. “You noticed I wasn’t there, and you came back for me.”

Stiles smiled weakly, but nodded. “I always will, Derek.” He shook his head. “No matter what happens between us, I’ll _always_ come back for you,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Derek’s eyes showed a small spark, something Stiles had only seen a handful of times, and a genuine – albeit tiny – smile twisted Derek’s lips. “Okay,” Derek whispered before closing the distance between them to meet Stiles in a kiss so tender that it melted him from his core, filling him with a feeling unlike anything he’d ever known. As they kissed, Stiles didn’t feel pain, he didn’t feel how cold he was still in wet clothes, and he didn’t even hear anything else except the beating of his own heart. Derek curled a gentle hand around his jaw and Stiles sighed softly, breaking the kiss only so far as to nuzzle his nose against Derek’s, taking in the peace he felt at that moment. 

The peace was shattered however, by a loud groan from right beside them. “Aw _crap_ , as if I needed any more stress,” John Stilinski’s voice rang out.

Stiles’s eyes snapped open and Derek jumped back so fast he fell into the seat behind him, cheeks burning bright red as he looked up and locked eyes with Stiles’s father. Stiles took in the look on Derek’s face, like a deer in the headlights after Stiles had seen him glaring down hunters that very night, and he couldn’t stop from cracking up, snorting and laughing until he slapped a hand over his mouth. He turned to face John, who just gave him a ‘why me?’ style look that was almost a _pout_ more than a frown. Derek cleared his throat, sitting up quickly. “Sheriff, I can explain-“

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh give up, Derek,” he said, winking at him before turning to his dad. “Hey Dad,” he said, looking at his crutch. “You okay?”

John gave him a flat look. “I have a broken foot thanks to werewolf hunters who held me hostage, my kid nearly died tonight, and I’m on seriously way too many pain pills because I really hope I just hallucinated said kid making out with a _werewolf who used to be a murder suspect_.” He cringed. “Who is a grown man.” 

Stiles shrugged. “We weren’t even kissing when you interrupted, suck it up,” he said and John glared half-heartedly. He rolled his eyes. “Dad, I could outline all the reasons I’m not a child and can make my own choices, but what probably says more than any of that is that I _stabbed a man in the heart_ because he shot Derek tonight. Clearly I’m pretty serious about him.” John actually snickered and Stiles gave him a shocked look. “The hell? I expected anger.”

John grinned in amusement. “It’s probably the drugs I’m on, but my first thought was ‘all I did was knock a guy out for calling your mom fat when we first started dating’,” he said and Stiles stared, biting his lip at his dad using _that_ comparison, let alone talking about his mother so freely. He looked at Stiles, then at Derek – who still looked like he expected John to shoot him at any moment – and sighed, rolling his eyes. “Ah hell, I’ll probably change my mind when I’m not pretty much high from all the meds, but the way I see it, Derek, you showed up to make sure Stiles was safe in New York when you didn’t have to and you came all the way back here after you left this town behind just to help him.” He shook his head. “I can’t say there’s anything wrong with what you’ve done so far. You obviously care about my son or you wouldn’t risk your life like you did tonight.”

Derek tentatively nodded. “Yes, sir. I- I love him,” he said bravely, sliding his hand back into Stile’s as if he needed reassurance to keep him from running away from the awkward situation. “I’d die for him.”

John shrugged. “Clearly he’ll kill for you, so that seems like a pretty good match.” He snorted, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “God knows if you ever hurt him, he’d probably kill you before I could, so you better be serious about that is all I’m saying. He’s a smart kid, I’d never even find the body-“

“Dad!” Stiles squawked. “It was self-defense, it’s not like I’m a serial killer now! I would not _kill_ Derek-“

“You could definitely hide the body where he’d never find it though,” Derek joked and Stiles glared over his shoulder at him, only to catch his father sharing an amused smile with Derek. 

“Oh _God_ ,” Stiles gasped, staring between them in exaggerated horror. “I never really thought about it but… but… You’re going to _get along_ ,” he groaned, dropping his head to Derek’s shoulder. “Bad news, Buddy. Change of plans. I love you, but we can’t be together. You and my dad can _never_ become friends-“

John flapped a hand. “Oh just give it up. If you’re gonna date, he’s spending time at the house. _Supervised_ time at the house,” he corrected quickly, glaring between them. “Doors stay open, especially until Stiles is eighteen-“

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That ship sailed, dude, I wasn’t even seventeen yet when Derek and I-“

“Stiles!” Derek growled, gaping at him in panic.

John just made a disgusted face. “New rule: No TMI, Stiles. Seriously. I’m used to it after being your dad, but just… just don’t,” he said, shuddering. “Allow me the happy delusion that Derek isn’t an actual felon, okay?”

Stiles smirked and saluted him. “Can do, Pops.”

John just snorted. “God help me,” he muttered, turning to hobble down the hall with his crutch. “Come on, somebody has to drive me home,” he called, not waiting up to see if Stiles followed. 

~

 **Epilogue** :

Phil watched Steve finishing loading up their stuff before turning back to the kids coming over to say their goodbyes. He walked down the ramp to meet Stiles, who was smiling tightly. “So,” he said, looking back at where Derek and John were at least attempting to carry on a conversation. “Everything work out?”

Stiles glanced back and smiled, turning back with a nod. “Yeah, things are good.” He smirked at Clint, who was flexing way too much for someone checking that the guns were all really unloaded. “You?”

Phil nodded back, eyes twinkling. “Sure thing.” He nodded to the plane. “Sure you don’t wanna come back to New York for the last few days? Private jet. You can be back night before classes start.”

Stiles sighed but shook his head with a sad smile. “Nah, I’m needed here. Same shit, different day, huh?” he asked and Phil chuckled.

“Sounds like my job,” he said, then straightened up some when he saw Clint gesture for him that it was time to go. “Well, Stiles, I have to say, as odd as our time together was, I really enjoyed having you visit,” he said. “You’re an amazing young man. Your mother would’ve been very proud of who you grew up to be. I know I am and I only just met you,” Phil said honestly.

Stiles bit his lip, then launched himself at Phil, hugging him tight. “You’re pretty awesome, Uncle Phil,” he muttered in a somewhat choked up voice. Phil’s smile softened and he curled his arms around Stiles, hugging him back. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“Me too, Stiles,” Phil said, patting his back as they pulled apart. He stepped back and straightened out his jacket, sharing a smile with Stiles before looking up. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to go,” he said softly. “I’ll see you again soon, Stiles,” he promised and Stiles beamed.

“Later, Uncle Phil.” Phil turned and headed to the plane while Stiles headed back to his father and Derek.

Phil turned back at the ramp. “Mr. Hale,” he called and Derek looked up. “Sure you don’t need a ride back to New York? It’s no trouble.”

Derek looked at Stiles, who was smiling back at him, and his entire face softened before he looked at Phil, shaking his head. “I’m good here, Agent Coulson.”

Phil nodded in understanding, quirking an eyebrow. “Call me Phil,” he said before turning back and making his way up the ramp as it closed behind him. 

Phil made his way up to the cabin and he sighed as he slid into his seat. Clint flopped down beside him, sliding his hand into Phil’s. “I’m gonna miss the kids. They were a lot of fun. Stiles is pretty great,” he said. “I hope we see him again soon.” Phil chuckled and nodded as he closed his eyes and settled in for the flight.

“Me, too.”


End file.
